


I'm Your Villain

by Anonymous



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, Duck Anatomy, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, and the drakepad is alluded to but not as an actual Current Relationship, even if he might feel like he is, so don't worry darkwing isn't cheating, the negalaunch is just referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Darkwing wants to understand something about the negaverse. Negaduck helps him, and then some.





	I'm Your Villain

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from the franz ferdinand song of the same name.
> 
> also, i've only watched up to _Life, the Negaverse, and Everything_ , so i hope that i haven't directly contradicted canon? i probably haven't, but, just in case i somehow have, sorry. 
> 
> actually, i guess i've technically contradicted canon in one way - that i neglected to mention morgana whatsoever - but that's because i fully believe she was introduced literally just to dispel the notion that LP and DW were a gay couple. it also just plain doesn't make any sense bc like,, you want me to believe not only that darkwing duck ISN'T gay, but also that this lady can't TELL that darkwing is gay????? 
> 
> anyway here's the absolute nastiest porn that i've ever written, because i'm a gay disaster whomst is Horny For That Evil Duck, and because i just CANNOT resist clonefucking.

It's something that he's been trying to understand since his very first encounter with Negaduck. It's something that he's been losing sleep over—it's the first  _thing_ , in fact, that he has lost multiple occasions of sleep over in a  _very_  long time. And it's been plaguing him tenfold since his visit to the negaverse itself a few months ago.

He hasn't breathed a word of that visit or any related musings to Launchpad, meanwhile. Though not at all because he feels his friend would have no insight to offer. He  _might_ have felt that way a couple years ago, when he still thought of Launchpad as a mere sidekick, when he made a point in engaging in very little conversation with him, when he still regarded Launchpad's presence in his home as just  _convenience_  and when he didn't even want to believe that he  _liked_  companionship...

But no, he knows now that Launchpad is perfectly capable of being wise in some matters, often abstract just like this. Matters of the heart in particular. Which is  _exactly_  why Drake would prefer he remain ignorant.

The last thing he wants to do is freak Launchpad out, or put him into the sort of existential crisis that  _he's_  been dealing with. Because even  _with_ his own composure and intellect which far surpasses whatever his very soft friend has, it's driven him... to this.

Darkwing would like to believe that he didn't come here out of curiosity alone, of course. However little of a ruckus Negaduck was actually making when he spotted him, and however much better of an idea it would have been to stake him out or get backup first, there's no situation in which he  _wouldn't_  have followed him to see what he was up to! There's no point in getting worked up over something unavoidable!

That's at least what he tells himself when he winds up with his limbs swiftly yanked behind him and bound to a metal pole in this dark, disgusting warehouse.

...And, apparently, what he said out loud without meaning to.

"Still monologuing your every move, I see," chuckles the cold, gravelly tone of his nemesis from somewhere in the dark. "That's got to be your most fucking annoying quality, you know that? If I wasn't already planning on tearing you limb from limb, I swear, I'd want to kill you just to shut you the fuck up! Seriously— _how_  has no one else done it yet?"

With every following word Negaduck sounds more and more crazed, until finally he's not only visible but hat-to-hat and practically  _beak-to-beak_  with him as he shouts right in his face. Darkwing manages to hold steady eye-contact and avoid the subtle shine of those fangs.

"Perhaps because the people in  _this_  dimension aren't all complete lunatics," he says smoothly.

"HA! You're  _right_!" Negaduck shouts again, now with a manic grin as he promptly throws a punch at Darkwing's eye—and he reflexively jerks in an attempt to block it, but only ends up knocking his head back against metal and hurting himself worse. That seems to make Negaduck laugh.

He expects the beating to continue in the following seconds, but his nemesis instead walks back into the dark, continuing as he does:

"I guess no one in this dimension really  _could_  possibly share my appreciation for raw, unadulterated evil, could they? Even St. Canard's  _nastiest_  natural villains barely hold a candle— _they_  all had to be  _driven_  to villainy by some... ' _suffering_ ' or ' _loss_ '—yeesh."

Negaduck pauses and flips a massive switch that lights up the whole interior of the warehouse, briefly blinding Darkwing with the shock. He waits for the initial buzzing to subside before continuing once more, while walking back to him,

"Listen, I'm all for suffering and loss and all that jazz, but the difference between me and those knobs is that for them, villainy is something that they  _do_  to achieve some purpose. And me? A villain is just what I am and always have been, baby! I don't NEED any stupid 'purpose!'—Except, of course, to be the genuine agent of chaos that this dimension really needs, because it really just  _doesn't_  make 'em like mine does..."

True to his word, unlike nearly all of the other criminals that Darkwing has ever been captured by, Negaduck has made it clear how serious and unhesitant he is about doing away with him. Several minutes already and he is  _no_  closer to loosening the ropes on his wrists, nor has he been faced with Negaduck merely  _standing_  there while ranting, but instead sorting through a pile of weapons. Trying to decide which to use on him, clearly.

Funnily enough, meanwhile, it's  _through_  all of his nemesis's ranting that Darkwing has been reminded of his burning curiosity... and given a reason to not be entirely upset about being stuck here.

Even funnier that before he can get a word out, Negaduck shoots him a glance up from adding rust to his chainsaw and says,

"You know, you actually caught me at a pretty convenient time—if I had a polite bone in my body I'd thank you for that.  _Usually_  I only get to catch you when we meet out on the streets and I'm already busy with something big, but today? My schedule is  _completely_  clear, so—actually, you know what?  _Thank you_. Because now I have the opportunity to devote as much time as I need to kill you the  _right_  way."

With that he bites his lip and hurls a throwing knife in Darkwing's direction, but it only manages to tear his cape.

"GAH! How embarrassing. But that's what I get for trying to use weapons from  _this_  dimension—they never seem to do lasting damage, do they?"

In spite of how painfully his heart is now racing from that quick flash of silver, Darkwing finally speaks again:

"So you hate this dimension and everything in it, right? Because it's the polar opposite of yours? Because at its core it's too good for you, and you can't stand anything that's even marginally good?"

" _Bingo!_ " Negaduck shouts, throwing another knife. That one takes off his hat.

He can't help the yelp that escapes him, that time, but he almost immediately follows with,

"Then— _why_  do you have a Gosalyn? And a Launchpad?"  _That_ , for once, gets Negaduck to pause. Darkwing suddenly feels like these past months are finally coming together. "...If you're the opposite of me, then how on  _earth_  are you the kind of man who adopts an orphan girl? And not just that but—gives her a  _home_? In a lower middle-class neighborhood to boot! She calls you  _Dad_  and she gets new toys every day from your version of Launchpad who—who doesn't even seem like your sidekick so  _what_  is he? How did you meet him and  _why_  does he live with you and  _how_  is it  _possibly_  the opposite from me?"

Now his heart is racing for another reason: he didn't take a single breath during all of that.

He also didn't realize quite how unsettled he would be made by Negaduck's stone-faced silence. Though it isn't much better when a smirk unfurls on Negaduck's beak, nor when he slings an axe over one shoulder and starts casually toward him.

"Well, that's an easy one, Shit-For-Brains... The negaverse is a mirror, not a  _complete_  opposite. Otherwise I wouldn't  _exist_ ,"—he swings the flat side of the axe into Darkwing's stomach, knocking his regained breath out of him—"would I?"

"You—" He lurches to double over in pain, but all it does is yank his tightly bound wrists at a  _horrible_  angle. The worse part is that he almost feels inclined to  _credit_  the son of a bitch for being the only criminal to ever bother restraining him effectively. "Ohhh, you—"

"It's  _temperament_  that's the thing," Negaduck continues in a low growl, jerking him up by the lapel, "...at least that's my theory. Take your little bitch of a Gosalyn, for example—" He pauses, presumably to watch Darkwing immediately struggle harder in his bonds. "She's got her own mind, right? She doesn't care about what anyone thinks of her and she doesn't care about consequences."

"She's a good kid, she just has a lot of spirit," Darkwing snaps reflexively—and feels a little silly after he does, until,

"Yeah? Mine's perfectly good too, she just has  _none_. Nothing at all! She does exactly as I say all the time and never disobeys, never even asks for permission to do anything I haven't explicitly said... and it  _sickens_  me. Fuck, what I wouldn't give for  _your_  Gosalyn so I could have as little as, I dunno, a shouting match or something once in a while? She's the  _worst_!"

"Then—?"

"Then why do I have her in the first place? Well... when all's said and done, you know, logically speaking... it's good to have progeny."

Darkwing's fully expecting it the moment he sees Negaduck's gaze flick downward, and he tries to squeeze his thighs together to block to blow at least somewhat—

But to no avail, as Negaduck's shin strikes him right between the legs.

"...Not like you were using anything down there to make any progeny anyway, but hey, even I can't resist a good pun."

"Don't think... that counts as a pun...," he groans out, head hung and eyes just barely focused on the concrete floor.

Negaduck kicks up again, with his knee this time.

"How about now?"

Darkwing can only whimper in response. As soon as he manages to get his legs to stop shaking and raise his head, however, he resolves to ask,

"What about Launchpad?"

"What _about_  him?"

"Explain how the hell you have him!"

It surely sounds like a dumb thing to be focusing on while he's in the grasp of the one criminal who undoubtedly has the capacity to kill him, and the only one he's ever genuinely feared... but that's precisely it. Darkwing is completely alone. No one knows he's here. No one would even know where to look. If he has any chance of surviving, it's with some kind of distraction.

And if all this does is delay his death, then at least he'll die with answers to the questions that have been haunting him.

" _Well_..." Negaduck looks thoughtful for a short moment. Then he just shrugs. "He was a fan of my work and wanted to be involved."

"And you took him in, what, out of the good of your heart?"

He tilts his head with a rare, wry smile. "Like you don't agree that it's useful to have some muscle around? Especially when that muscle is attached to an expert engineer, the kinda loyalty that practically amounts to  _worship_ , and a nice, fat cock to boot?"

Darkwing's heart skips. He blinks.

He couldn't have heard that right. It was said so casually, those  _couldn't_  have been the words.

Negaduck's eyes widen to match his own within seconds, and then so does his mouth—into a tight, angled grin. The most genuine one that he's seen so far, really.

"Darkwing, are you telling me that you  _don't_  get fucked by your Launchpad? Oh...  _boy_ , are you missing  _out_. He might not have a damn thing in that skull of his, but you bet he makes up for it...  _every, single, night_. Shit, I'm the furthest thing from sentimental, but I  _swear_  to you. My most hated enemy. That the first time he stuck it in, my life changed forever. And,  _god_ —when I do feel like doing the fucking myself? You wouldn't  _believe_  how far that face'll twist, and the  _noises_ — _Mm_!"

With that, he kisses his fingers and makes a motion as though he's giving his compliments to the chef, which only baffles Darkwing on top of everything else. And adds to the unbearable heat spreading through him.

Part of him would prefer getting the sharp end of that axe to this. At least _then_  he'd know how to feel.

"But... let me guess," Negaduck continues with a growl of a sigh, "you and your Launchpad are just taking it slow? Still in the 'pining' stage, probably?— _Ugh_ , and when you do finally fuck it'll probably be all  _soft_  and you'll call it ' _making love_ ' or some gross shit like that... I bet your Launchpad's too good of a boy to  _dare_  make any kinda move, too, huh? Well.  _Mine's_  an absolute horndog. Never gets tired of begging, either. This is one of those ways that our universes are the same, I think, because he'd do anything and everything I ever wanted. He'd get on his knees for me in public if I let him—which I  _have_ ," He flashes a fanged grin and grasps at Darkwing's chest with either hand—at which Darkwing realizes for the first time how  _close_  they are. Then he throws his head back. "And he gives it to me  _so_  fucking rough,  _just_  the way I like it—I break at least one bone a week! Hell, even though he'd sooner rip you to shreds on his own time—"

Negaduck digs his fingers mercilessly deep into Darkwing's chest and pulls what feels like a handful of feathers out—

"if I said the word he'd be  _raring_  to fuck you, too, Dark. I know he'd just  _love_  to fuck your ass while he watches me fuck your throat—or shit, even get spitroasted by the two of us, or be in the middle of  _any_  kind of Darkwing sandwich... Maybe even get your sweet little Launchpad in the mix. I'm sure I could make a  _delicious_  mess of him."

Hearing that sends a stabbing alarm through Darkwing's body that pulls him out of the thick, dense heat that he's been drowning in and back into himself—enough to have the will to jerk at his bonds again, and to begin to spit,

"You're dead wrong if you think we'd EVER be part of your sick fantasies, you evil—uh..."

He trails off as Negaduck merely tilts his gaze downward and lets that smirk unfurl again.

"You sure about that?"

Negaduck wastes no time in ripping Darkwing's coat open, sending the buttons flying and bouncing off something metal across the warehouse and, more significantly... revealing the bulge that's formed underneath.

He hadn't even realized it was there himself.

Or he'd at least managed to hold onto doubt that he was truly feeling it, or to remain focused enough on  _getting out of here_  to ignore it.

There  _is_  no ignoring it, however, when Negaduck reaches forward and squeezes his cock like he's trying to fucking  _pop_  it.

Darkwing yelps in pain at the same time that he can't help thrusting his hips forward.

"God, you're  _pathetic_." He squeezes harder. "All that  _shame_  you feel about your basic physical urges and you haven't even bothered to learn to control them yet? Yikes. If I were you I'd start wearing pants." And he  _twists_  it—in the wrong direction.

And Darkwing gasps, tears now obscuring his vision. "Please..."

" _PLEASE?_  Oh, you dirty bird, this is  _exactly_  what you came here for, isn't it? ...We're clearly not that different at all—but shit, anyone who  _doesn't_  wanna fuck themself is either a liar or has no self-esteem. And we both got a bit too  _much_  of that, don't we?"

"No, I—"

Before this twisted, psychopathic clone of him entered his world, Darkwing wouldn't have hesitated to agree. He knows that he has a heightened ego and he's always felt incredibly justified in it, and he  _would_  indeed be lying if he said that he'd never felt an attraction to his own appearance.

But he cannot and will not believe that he wants  _this_. He's appalled with himself— _disgusted_  with himself for being so aroused, he's more humiliated than he's ever felt in his  _life,_  and that humiliation has somehow only festered to make his arousal more intense, to make his cock throb in spite of the pain, in spite of the fatigue, in spite of the fear, in spite of every last mixed feeling that's been brought up over Launchpad—

"Don't waste your breath, baby," Negaduck breathes—against his neck, now, after pulling himself closer solely by his grip on Darkwing's erection. "I'm  _happy_  to oblige."

He does so by promptly and confidently sinking his teeth into Darkwing's neck.

While he moans, Darkwing yelps again, feeling  _positive_  that Negaduck is about to tear a chunk right out of his neck—only for him to draw back mere moments later, beak only slightly bloodied, to spit out a few feathers.

"...Oh, you like that more than you pretend to. I can  _feel_  it."

Negaduck's hand then finally loosens up on his cock, and the utter  _relief_  pulls a moan out of him that would have been embarrassing a minute ago. But now he can't quite get any lower.

Or he thinks so until that hand actually moves in-between his legs and right underneath his tail, at which his relieved moan turns into a strangled noise. Instinctively, Darkwing tries to kick out—but once again finds the rope on his ankles unforgiving.

So are Negaduck's fingers as they push directly into his asshole, no time wasted with prodding or teasing, and slicked just  _slightly_  with his own precum.

 _This isn't even necessary, we have the same-sized dick and it ISN'T that big,_ part of him wants to say, but he realizes a second later how stupid that would be. Obviously that's  _why_  his entirely evil clone is doing it.

He's too busy trying desperately to keep his strangled noises from turning back into moans to say anything, anyway.

And he's failing, in spite of himself.

For some moments Darkwing almost forgets entirely why he's here and whom he's even with, losing himself in the long-missed sensation of being fucked and in the friction of a cock against his own. There would be no sense, really, in forcing himself to hate something that feels so good when he can't even  _possibly_  walk away...

Except Negaduck makes it very easy to hate this, with how little reprieve he offers from excruciating pain. Only very few moments pass at a time that his fangs aren't puncturing some piece of him, or that he isn't pulling his body away from the metal pole and making him feel like his arms will pop out of socket, or ripping feathers from flesh, or choking him, or just outright  _hitting_  him... And it lasts so,  _so_  long.

And somehow, he  _still_  loses himself enough to crack right in two.

"Just—just,  _please_ ," he groans, for the first time since this part of the torture began, "just...  _do it_."

His vision is hazy, but he's fairly sure that Negaduck's eyes proceed to widen with glee.

"Do  _what_ , Darkwing?"

" _IT_ , just—"

"Say it," he growls. His fingers cease their pumping in and out of him, but remain inside. "I won't move a damn muscle until you say it."

...The rational part of him wants him to hesitate at the very least. To not allow his worst enemy see him fold like that.

But it comes out within a fraction of a second:

"Just  _fuck me_ , please, stick your cock in me and get it  _over with_."

Another fraction of a second and Negaduck does something very surprising: he picks up the axe that fell to the floor during all of his debauching, and he makes practically instantaneous work of slicing the rope away from Darkwing's ankles.

Darkwing does something even  _more_  surprising and makes no use whatsoever of his freed legs. Instead he simply watches his counterpart tear open his own, striking yellow coat, and he swallows at the sight of the deep purplish-red erection against white feathers underneath, and he allows his legs to be pulled up over Negaduck's shoulders without a fuss.

He just—

He won't think it, he won't  _dare_ think it, but he just wants it. He wants it, he wants it,  _he wants it_ , he—

He throws his head back in strangled ecstasy when the twin of his own cock thrusts into him, but immediately after has it pulled back down by the beak.

"Hey!—You're gonna  _look_  at me. You're not gonna picture your little Launchpad or  _anyone_  else while I'm fucking you. It's all me and you  _want_  it to be me, babe."

Before Darkwing can let out so much as a whine, then, Negaduck jerks him by the beak yet again—this time forward, right into his own.

Both of them keep their eyes open, however heavy-lidded, when Negaduck kisses him. It's not even a kiss, really—he moreso just smashes their beaks together, scrapes his pointed teeth uncomfortably against Darkwing's dull ones, and shoves his tongue in as far as it will go. In a spark of defiant energy, Darkwing bites down.

And Negaducks  _moans_. And the roll of his hips becomes another harsh thrust. And he pulls back enough to say, with a sort of breathless amazement,

"Shit—you  _really_  want this..."

Then the amazement is gone and Negaduck's beak is practically  _inside_  his own, latching onto his tongue and sucking hard... and then biting down with about twice the force that Darkwing did.

He'd cry out if his mouth wasn't all but full. Or if his head wasn't  _swimming_  with a million other things on top of the pain. If  _he_  wasn't full of Negaduck's cock fucking him in a relentless rhythm through all of it...

In a sickening way, the metallic taste on his tongue is almost even pleasant.

He spits his blood in Negaduck's face when he pulls away again, knowing full well this time that the bastard will enjoy it. It earns him a growl and another few especially rough thrusts, and... it's all downhill from there.

There's still no consideration, no reprieve for the ache in his head from knocking against the metal pole, nor the soreness in his arms from the position they've been tied up in, nor the sweltering heat inside of his shirt and coat, nor any of the various wounds that have been inflicted on him. There are no words of encouragement, none meant to arouse him or help him finish, but exclusively to demean him. There isn't even a fucking hand on his cock.

Yet Darkwing's arousal remains strong, and he doesn't stray far at all from climax.

As  _disgusted_  as he feels about it.

Even as Negaduck tells him, through hot, breathy grunts,

"God, you're so much like me, you know that? I fucking  _despise_  your ass, but you are. One little misstep and you could be me. You love crime and evil just as much as I do—you  _love_  it, you'd miss it so fucking bad if it was gone 'cause then you'd have nothing to  _do_! You don't even like other heroes because you wanna fight crime all by yourself, you just want the  _spotlight_  and the  _worship_ , you don't actually  _care_  about anyone but yourself and your pathetic little family..."

Though something in his gut does sink, hearing all that. The only part of it he can even think to contest is,

"Least I— _oh_ —" His vision briefly goes white. He didn't realize how hard it would be to talk while he's like this. "...At least I  _have_  a family."

Negaduck sneers. "Yeah? I doubt you still would if they saw you  _now_."

On that cue, he drives any and every thought of Darkwing's family right back out of his mind, and drives his own point  _home_. About six times.

He can tell when Negaduck is about to come by the unprecedentedly glassy look in his eyes, and— _damn_  himself—preemptively moans and squeezes his legs around Negaduck's neck at the sight of it—

— _because it's his own face, he tells himself, that's ALL it is_ —

—and Negaduck groans and digs his fingers into Darkwing's sides and surges forward to latch his teeth onto a spot that he's _definitely_  already bitten to death, and Darkwing can't even care about that because after so long even just the  _slightest_  friction of Negaduck's feathers against his aching, dripping, hypersensitive cock is enough to—

" _Fuhuhuuuuuuuuuuuck_..."

Darkwing comes with an intense wave of relief that overwhelms any and all other sensation. He finally,  _finally_ comes, and he forgets where he is, nearly even  _who_  he is, and... and,

And as Negaduck goes rigid against him and lets out a prolonged, filthy groan, it all comes back to him. It doesn't take long after completely spilling between them for Darkwing to feel the pain creep up on him again, and not long after  _that_... god, the shame does too. About twice as heavily as before.

Negaduck's cock leaves his ass—leaves him  _empty_ , as terrible as that feels to think, but for nauseating dread for what's sure to come next.

And  _next_ , Negaduck drops his legs, which feel worse than useless, and bends to pick up that axe off the ground. In his exhaustion, Darkwing can do nothing but look with blurry view at its sharp edge, then at his enemy's satisfied smirk, then... hold his breath and wait for it.

He watches with a rapidly elevating heartbeat as Negaduck arches back and swings the axe—

—which severs the rope that binds his wrists to the pole, sending him falling abruptly onto his ass.

If every last one of his muscles wasn't shot with fatigue or worse at the moment... Darkwing still would not be moving from that spot. He doesn't even think to begin removing the excess rope from his wrists. He just blinks and shakes his head vigorously, shifts just slightly into a position that doesn't press his loose, sore ass against concrete, and watches Negaduck clean himself up.

"...What're you looking at?" the other duck asks, gruff as ever. There's just  _barely_  a hint of amusement as he wipes Darkwing's semen and blood off his stomach and face.

"You're—"  _God_ , his throat is dry. "—not... gonna kill me?"

That's one thing he's never had little enough dignity to ask, but he's also never been more  _confused_  to be alive.

As though to specifically confuse him further, Negaduck proceeds to scoff and turn his back to put the axe away.

"Of course I am!—just not today. After that, I just  _know_  I'm gonna want to fuck you again in the future, and I think I'd prefer you be alive when I do." He turns back around and smirks at him, but stays where he is. "Besides, I'm not one-dimensional. I'm not  _all_  about plain death and destruction. I'm about suffering and torture too! ...Knowing that you'll have to walk home in the daylight, and then try to explain to your precious _family_  why you look like that? Is so much more fuckin' satifying than killing you here and now."

Fuck, that didn't even  _occur_  to him.

All at once he's hyper-aware of the tears in all of his garments, of all the semen sticking to his shirt and feathers and dripping out of his ass, of every spot that is surely visibly  _missing_  feathers, of every bruise, every series of raw wounds that will be impossible to pass off as anything but bites—everywhere from his arms, to his chest, to his neck, to his  _tongue_ , and finally of the sustained  _shaking_  in each of his limbs...

Gosalyn is young enough that she'll easily believe he just got into a particularly nasty fight, but  _Launchpad_?

His throat closes up and his eyes well with tears just  _thinking_  about all the ways things might go sour.

"You sure you don't wanna just kill me?" he calls out with a nervous laugh and a swallow.

"Unfortunately!" Negaduck beams. "Now  _scram_ , before my refractory period is up."

Hearing  _that_  gives Darkwing the spark of adrenaline he needs to stand up on practically boneless legs, grab his torn hat from the ground, and hurry out of the warehouse without looking back.

He stops for his breath once he's outside, of course. He finds a dumpster to hide behind and he sinks to the ground again, and he breathes long, deep breaths until he feels confident that walking will no longer be excruciating—and like he no longer wants to vomit. Everything in him screams to just stay here until dark, avoid letting all of St. Canard see their beloved hero so completely battered.

But god, he'd be here for hours. And he'd inevitably be far worse off with all of these open wounds getting absolutely no attention for that long.

 _And_  he needs to be home in time to feed Gosalyn dinner, or else Launchpad will burn down the kitchen in an attempt to do it himself.

Or worse, he'll just let her eat  _junk_.

Dreading the thought, and doing what he can to push aside his pain and shame for now, Drake starts hobbling his way home.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope that ending there redeemed this, like, morally. probably not. 
> 
> anyway i published this anonymously bc i understand that it's just objectively nasty and i don't want it attached to my main account where people might see it and lose all trust for me or whatever. i don't PERSONALLY think that writing even borderline rape in a fictional porn about ducks actually makes me a Bad Person, especially when the character not heeding the rules of consent is literally Evil Incarnate and thus it's entirely in-character and not excused, and when the nature of the situation in general is just not one that any potential readers would ever replicate irl......... but i'd obviously understand if people became wary of me knowing that i found this situation arousing, fictional duck-based scenario or not. so.
> 
> ANYWAY! i implore you to tell me if this fic made you nut, and if you want to talk to be about nsfw darkwing duck stuff (mainly drakepad, negawing, and negalaunch), i made a blog just for that and it's **[darkwingfucks](https://darkwingfucks.tumblr.com)**


End file.
